Blackhat
by rosieali
Summary: Def: A hacker. Breaks into a computer system or network with malicious intent. Takes advantage of the break-in, destroying files or stealing data for some future purpose. Useful when detailing complex plans. And he has big plans for this city.
1. Prologue

He had come to Gotham University one day to charm the computer science lecturer. A tall handsome, well spoken young man that had no problem retrieving the details of the lecturers most prized student, " _She picked up coding faster than anyone I've ever known_ -"

Eleanor Tyrell, a bright, sharp young woman with a mind for computers and nothing else. That is, of course, until Alberto Falcone approached her after class on a Wednesday afternoon.

" _Just some computer coding, nothing too extreme.._." A lie, but at the time Eleanor payed little attention to this minor detail to focus on the more important part of the agreement, "... _substantial payment of course.._." And then brushed off the nagging end of the deal, ".. _.it would be in your best interest to keep this arrangement to yourself.._."

She would rewrite bank statements, records and any data he needed altered. It was difficult, time consuming work, not to mention extremely illegal. Sometimes she would hit a wall, a technical hitch in the system even she couldn't breach. Sometimes these set backs would push Falcone's deadline back months and she would work hours on end to crack the code.

But her first paycheck was for seven thousand US dollars. And they only got bigger.

Was it worth it?

 _Of course it was worth it_. In the short term anyway, her college tuition worries were a thing of the past at this point. Unfortunately her conscience was not. What she was doing was very, _very_ illegal. She knew and understood that, she wasn't trying to cast a blind eye over the fact that she was a criminal. But she was a smart one, who worked for a smart guy who belonged to a smart family. Eleanor wasn't going to be caught any time soon.

Not by the police.  
But it wasn't the police she had to be worried about.

Carmine Falcone's fall was the most threatening period of her criminal career, there were times where she would stay awake at night waiting for the Batman to storm through the door and tie her to a post for a squad car to collect. But he never did, apparently he had more important things to worry about than a college student hacking computers for Carmine Falcone's son.  
And so did the police.  
The Crane incident brought the heat off the Falcone family and without his father there to conduct his orchestra of mafia minions, Alberto stepped in. He had a more grounded and delicate approach to his work and by laying low he kept them out of the spotlight and under the radar.

So time went on and Alberto and Eleanor grew closer. He would bring her coffee as she worked and they would talk and smile and exchange stolen glances, because when you stick a pretty girl and a pretty boy together for a long period of time, there is only one way for things to go.  
One thing led to another and before they knew it they were pulling off each other clothes, kicking over coffee cups in a flurry of emotions.

Eleanor Tyrell was sitting pretty on a small fortune, engaging in a relationship with a handsome mob boss and doing it all with very little risk. Things had never been better.

But Gotham City is unpredictable, notorious, dangerous. A scrambled web of prostitution, drugs, organised crime and corruption with little mercy and no forgiveness. Eleanor Tyrell had embedded herself in the system, a decision likened to that of selling her soul to the devil as she gave in to the irresistible temptation of money.  
Her judgement was blurred by the illusion of security that money and a powerful man at her arm could bring. But each code she rewrote, or each bank record she altered, was a step deeper into the darker side of Gotham that she could never escape. Each paycheck a reminder that there was no going back.

* * *

 ** _Notes:_**

 ** _1\. I obviously do not own anything to do with the DC Comics universe._**  
 ** _2\. I have no knowledge of anything to do with hacking or coding so please excuse any inaccurate terminology that I may throw about like a complete noob._**  
 ** _3\. In this version of the story, Falcone's mob has not been overtaken by Maroni. They are separate.  
_**

 ** _Enjoy!_**


	2. My Bloody Valentine

**Eleanor**

 _Valentines Day  
8.30PM_

Eleanor pushed her body against the door as she twisted the key, "Al I'm-"  
She stopped mid sentence as she realized that the shower was running in the master en-suite, Alberto wouldn't hear her from the kitchen. The door snapped in the otherwise silent penthouse suite as she shut it softly behind her.  
Eleanor's ankle boots clicked off the tiles as she paced towards the kitchen counter, slipping a hand around her grip on her bag to pick up the note sitting on the marble surface.

" _In shower. Hope you don't mind its without you-"_ Eleanor laughed down at the paper. It wasn't even a funny joke, it probably wasn't a joke. But Alberto would always make her smile, "- _Dinner is at 9, try not to take too long. Happy Valentines day Beautiful._ "

Her grin faded as her eyes drifted upwards to the clock sitting on the wall. She was late. They were going out to one of the Falcone family restaurants in half an hour. Eleanor groaned, frowning as she raked her fingers through her hair at the thoughts of all the things she had to do. She wouldn't have time to wash her hair or contour her face to perfection-

She sighed, allowing her hand to slide down her neck and over the small silver chain, a gift from Alberto. Her eyes drifted across the room, thinking of Al in the shower, she should join him. She smiled to herself, lost in thought before shaking herself out of it and wiping her face with her hands to wake herself up.  
The penthouse was open plan with an adjoining kitchen/living room, but as of now only the kitchen was lit. The living room space was in darkness, not even leaving the outlines of furniture visible.  
She stared into the dark, a sense of discomfort settling slowly in. It was stupid, this was her and Alberto's _home_ , she was _safe_ here. Was she really scared unnerved by the dark. That nagging feeling was the hunger, she was positive. Eleanor subconsciously scratched the edge of her wrist, dragging her gaze away from the dark of the living room and to the bedroom door. Maybe she would join him. She left the kitchen with the note still in her hand.

* * *

 **Alberto**  
 _10 minutes earlier_

He didn't hear or see them coming, nor did he know how they had gotten in. Alberto had switched the shower on to let the hot water run and then went back into the bedroom to undress. But one of them hit him a blow to his stomach, causing him to lurch forward as the barrel of a gun was shoved against his temple and he was dragged into the living room.

Two wore makeshift masks, material pulled disturbingly over their heads. Alberto wasn't worried about them, they looked like your average lowlife criminals. He could bribe them with money in exchange for his safety.

But the other was different. He wore no mask, his face bare and unapologetic. Scars slashed along the sides of his mouth like a smile, the Glasgow smile exposed as he grinned down at him and Alberto doubled over after another hit. He wore a dirty old fading suit, black leather gloves on his hands.  
This one might just be crazy, and there was no reasoning with crazy.

The man surveyed the suite, drinking in all the details and occasionally glancing towards a cowering Alberto slumped on a chair with a gun to his head. He slipped something into his pocket as he chewed on the inside of his cheeks, eyes darting from one of Al's to the other.

"Sorry to crash your little, bachelor pad without invitation-" He finally spoke, his voice high and nasally, "I would've called-" He was tall, standing at probably above 6ft but he was hunched over, his curved shoulders concealing his true height "-but I always find face to face to be a little more... _productive_ , hm?"

Alberto didn't answer, his hands gripping the arms of the chair to stop them shaking.

"And Y _ou_ , Berty boy," He pointed at him, edging closer, "-you're a hard guy to come by..." The man remained silent for a moment, watching Alberto try his hardest to avoid eye contact, "But I've got a bone to pic _k_ with you-" His head tilted as he waited for a response. Alberto lifted his gaze slowly, swallowing, "I have money-"

The man shook his head, disappointed, "I'm not hereeee for you money-" He grabbed his neck, the click of the switchblade so fast Alberto could barely comprehend it before the metal pressed against his throat, "What I wan _t_ is something _much_. _More. Valuable._ "  
His voice deepened, threatening and terrifying, "I _want_ a technician," His head bobbed from side to side, thinking of other ways to put it, "-someone who can hack a little system, a computer _arc-hi-tect_ -ah."  
The blade tapped against his skin, "See I've got big plans for this city, and word on the streets is you're the guy who can hook me up."

"I don't know-" Alberto's meek attempt was silenced by the blade pushing further into his neck.  
"Listen Meatballs-"

The shuffling of keys interrupted the interrogation and all four men turned their heads towards the door. In one quick, swift movement the man slid his blade away from Alberto and nimbly moved to the light switch on the wall. He dipped back to Alberto, clamping a hand roughly over his mouth, silencing him in the now darkness as they looked towards the illuminated kitchen and the figure opening the door.

The man's grip tightened over his mouth at the sight of the Eleanor. The introduction of a loved one made things infinitely more complicated.

She had a small figure, but her voice confident as she called out. She looked tired, like she'd had a long day, her brown hair falling over her shoulders in light, slightly messy waves. Her face was bright from the rush she'd been in to try and not be late, but her eyes had dark, fatigued shadows under them, ones in which she planned to cover with concealer as soon as possible. She was still beautiful, her high cheekbones and plump little lips emphasized by the harsh light of the kitchen. But a overworked beautiful, worn out in need of a sleep kinda beautiful.

Alberto watched her like a hawk as she read the note. She leaned on one leg, crossing the other casually as she smiled to herself. His eyes followed the movement of her hand as it traveled through her hair and ran down her neck. He wanted her to leave, he didn't need her here.

He could hear the mans sharp and hollow breaths beside him as Alberto presumed he too, was staring at Eleanor. He wondered for a moment, why he chose to turn off the lights, or why he hadn't jumped out at Eleanor already. He was probably transfixed, or maybe he just couldn't believe his luck. It would have seemed so perfect, if Falcone wasn't going to talk before, he would now.

Eleanor seemed to be staring right at him, her eyes deep in thought. He had told her before that he loved the way she frowned, that the way she would look at a computer screen, frowning at a problem she occurred, was one of the sexiest things he'd even seen a woman do.  
Now he hated it. He wanted to slap it off her captivating little face.

" _Women complicate things. Don't let 'em get involved in your work. We don't mix business with pleasure remember-_ "

His fathers voice echoed in his head as Eleanor finally looked away from his direction. He hadn't adopted his fathers advice, in fact he'd opposed it. And in that terrible moment he realized that he didn't want someone else to take care of.  
His father was right, women do complicate things. Alberto was smitten, he loved her lips, her slim legs, her tight little waist-  
But he was not _in love_ with Eleanor Tyrell.

Convenience and practicability had drawn them together, he thought as he watched her leave.  
She provided him with a substantial income, a great sex life, intelligent conversation and made for an impressive dinner partner. And that, he feared, was not enough.

It was quiet for a moment before the bedroom door shut and the voice beside him let out a low whistle, "...ahhh, that's a traffic stopper you've got there Al-" His suppressed a dark laugh beside him in the darkness, "And, ah, tell me- Does, does she know? Hm? About the things you get up to in your spare time? Or is this a Bonnie and Clyde type deal?"

He nudged one of the men who then switched the light back on, "Either way...- she's one hell of a looker. And I'd love to just get her out here and talk things over, get to know her. She looks like an interesting gal-"  
He looked to Alberto as if expecting an opinion despite the fact his mouth was clamped by his hand, "-or maybe we wont talk." He looked upwards as if imagining the possibilities, " _Maybe_ , we'll do things. Or ahh, I'll do just do things to _her_. Hm? And you can sit and watch. Maybe then, Al, you'll remember those names for me."

The man spoke without his eyes leaving Alberto's, "Get the girl."

* * *

 **Eleanor**

She dropped her bag onto the bed, fighting the urge to collapse on top of it as well. Maybe she could call it a nightt. Then she could get into the shower with Al, and after she could sleep. _Sleep_ , oh how she longed for it, beautiful, blissful _sleep_.  
Eleanor slipped her jacket off her shoulders, trying to think of what she could wear to this dinner. Her new red dress, Alberto loved it when she wore red.

She caught a glimpse of herself in the dressing table mirror and she paused to tilt her chin up and around. She looked terrible, like she'd just ran a marathon in a hurricane. Eleanor reached for a hair brush, her hand stopping mid air as she noticed something odd.  
The nightstand by the bed was jolted out at a weird angle, on the ground in front of it lay an empty glass along with a book. They seemed to have fallen off the stand.

Things were never left on the floor here. Alberto Falcone was a perfectionist, a neat freak. He hated things out of place, or where they didn't belong. There's _no way_ he'd leave the glass or the book thrown on the ground like that. Eleanor looked down at the floor, different thoughts running through her mind, her face puzzled. She turned on the spot to call him in the shower to come face to face with the barrel of a gun.

She stared down at the weapon, her voice and body freezing. It was pointed at her face, right between her eyes, but she wasn't dead. Whoever this was, they didn't come here for her life. They weren't here because they were payed to blow her brains out, they wanted something. She thought of the similar gun hidden under the bed, but it was no use, just ask them;

"What do you want-"

The guns aim lowered to her heart, the enforcer watching her face for a moment, "Out you go Princess."

Eleanor glanced up at his masked face, inhaling through her mouth as she stepped shakily to the side and forward, the gun following her every movement. Maybe this was a hostage situation, oh dear God she hoped not. She was no stranger to violence, although she had tried to stray away from that aspect of the mob as much as possible.  
Eleanor didn't discuss dealings that didn't involve computers with Alberto because she didn't want to get involved, partly because she slept better not knowing.

Part of her wanted to run, or to struggle and put up a fight. But Eleanor was so inexperienced, she had no chance. She knew vaguely how to yield a gun, but nothing about unarmed combat or dodging bullets at short range.  
She could call out to Alberto. He was in the shower but maybe he could make it out in time before they took her, which is what she presumed was going to happen. Eleanor could buy him some time by kicking and screaming, the guy holding the gun wouldn't shoot her or he would've done so already, _right_? The gun was a threat but an empty one-

Eleanor turned towards the bathroom, screaming, " _Hel_ -!" A hand grabbed her from behind, silencing her voice and muffling her cry. Another arm collapsed across her chest, pinning her shoulders back, "Shut your trap, Sweetcheeks."

He pulled her into the kitchen, "No ones coming to save you, your boyfriends already here-"

Eleanor's eyes widened, expressing a thousand horrified thoughts as the scene unfolded in front of her. Alberto sat an an armchair, staring submissively ahead, not even bothering to look up at her as she was lugged into his view. Two other men stood over him, one with a mask, the other without. The former held a gun to Alberto's head, the other stood with his back to her, fiddling with something in his hands.  
Eleanor was shoved closer to him now, she could see his calm breaths. Why was he so calm, she was freaking out, this was not right.

She stared at Alberto, pleading with her eyes, willing for him to look at her and offer some sort of explanation. _Look at me, look at me, look at me-_

Someone answered her thoughts. But it wasn't Alberto.  
The unmasked man looked at her over his shoulder, then doing a double take as if surprised to see her, turned his fully body around.

Eleanor peeled her eyes grudgingly away from her boyfriend and up to the mans face, immediately hit by his startling gaze, staring right into her soul. His eyes were brown, but very, _very_ dark. Almost black.

He would look at her big, blue eyes and see fear, regret, sadness, _terror_.  
And she would look into his and see... nothing. A dark abyss, two gaping black holes of pure nightmare fuel, judging your every movement, your every breath. She could see the scars on his mouth, but her eyes were straining as she tried not to think of them and look down. So instead she focused on his eyes, his terrifying, analyzing eyes-

Yet as soon as he he laid her eyes on her, he looked away, flooding momentary relief over Eleanor. It was short lived however, as a glint of light below her gaze confirmed a terrible speculation. He was holding a knife.  
Eleanor struggled, eyes widening. Her palms were so sweaty, shorter bits of hair falling in wisps around her terrified face. What was this? He was going to hurt her. He was going to _kill_ her. She was dead. _Dead meat_.

The man bent down so that he was level with Alberto, his elbow cocked on his knee as he leaned in towards him. He spoke into his ear, quietly so that no one else could hear, the switchblade tapping restlessly in his hand.  
For a split second she saw Al's eyes move upwards to her while he listened, then returning to the floor, his face cold. After a moment the man pulled away, staring into Alberto's face, then slowly rising, eyes panning over to Eleanor.

 _Deep breaths._  
But she couldn't even breath properly with this confining hand over her mouth. The guy wasn't even looking at her face, he didn't care about _her_. Whatever this was, it wasn't about Eleanor. This had everything to do with Al, and she was just a way to hurt him, or to get him to talk.  
He was looking under her face, at the collar of her dress. The knife was tilting this way and that in his hand, working out angles as his eyes ran over her neck.  
Eleanor tried to shake her head but was restrained by a tight grip. Her eyes clamped shut, a cry suppressed by the hand-

"Its her."

Eleanor's eyes opened. The man in front of her paused mid-step. Al had spoken, his gaze still on the ground.

"She does it all. All of it."

 _All of what?_

"That's the only name I can give you, cause she's the only one."

She saw the scarred man shift slightly towards Al, apparently confused. His eyes narrowed as he turned fully, "... _what_?"

"Its _her_." Al repeated, louder this time, "There are others, but they're rookies. She can do it all."

" _Her_?" The guys arm lifted to point the knife at a stunned Eleanor, his head turning soon after to look at her, " _You_?"

 _What the hell was going on?_

He advanced on her and the hand over her mouth was removed.

"You his programmer?"

 _Shit_.

Eleanor froze, her mouth tensing slightly. Her hesitation was enough to give him the answer he needed.  
It didn't matter what she was going to say as a reply, her reaction gave her away. He'd caught her by utter surprise and she had been found out by the tiny flutter in her facial expression.

His mouth broke into a terrible smile, stretching the skin along his scars, eyes glinting with something terrible, " _Well_...- that changes things."

* * *

 **Reviews much appreciated :)**


	3. Bad Romance

**Alberto**

Alberto dragged his gaze up from the dark floorboards and looked up at Eleanor. She was abashed, her eyebrows knitted together, eyes searching her perpetrators as her mind whirled, piecing the situation together. And then he saw it in her face, the realization settling in that he had outed her to these criminals, he had given her up with what would seem to be very little shame or regret.  
Eleanor looked to him, her eyes meeting his, screaming an unspoken question that rang in his head, _why_?

She didn't know what words her captor had spoken into his ear with such casual indifference, what he had told him of the plans he had for Eleanor unless Al told him the name. She was better off now, although she would never believe it.  
Now that these criminals knew who she was, knew what she could do, he hoped they would not hurt her. It would take a band of idiots to damage something that they needed to work, and they needed Eleanor. And something told him that these weren't idiots they were dealing with, at least judging by the man with the knife, staring down at his girlfriends beautifully perplexed face.

The heel of his hand collided with Eleanor's left temple. She did not see it coming and no noise escaped her lips as she collapsed, her legs falling limply and her lifeless body held up only by arms caging her from behind. Her head lolled softly backwards onto the masked clowns shoulder. Alberto shuffled on his seat, hands coiling into fists, they weren't supposed to hurt her. A gun clicked behind him, hindering any idiotic, heroic response he was thinking of giving.

The man turned to Al, his head turned to the side to convey an expression of pity, "Starting to miss her already?" Al swallowed, his face tense as he watched him step towards Eleanor, "She was so good at making you money-" He stood so close to her now that her dropping head touched lightly off his chest. His hand slipped under past her neck, his fingers unraveling her hair as it began to fall loosely down her shoulders, "and so good at-..." He lowered his head, inhaling slowly as his nose tipped off the side of her neck, just below the jawline, breathing in the scent of her hair and her skin.

Al knew what she smelt like, her shampoo came in a blue bottle and had pictures of coconuts on it. And now someone else was touching her, someone else had their hands in her hair. He tried to suppress the sudden surge of anger and jealousy by reminding himself that he had _willingly_ handed her over to him. He didn't love her, _remember?_ He just really, _really_ liked her. _A lot_.

His head lifted from under her, eyes closed whilst finishing his inhale and hands uncurling from her hair as he extended his fingers as if stretching them. He rolled his shoulders back, opening his eyes before cracking his neck to the side, almost looking as though he was compressing a shudder, "Ahhh, oh, now-" He winced at Al, "- _now_ I don't just _see_ the attraction. I can _taste_ it-"

Alberto made a move to stand up suddenly from the chair. The gun behind him dug into his shoulder as a very serious threat but he ignored it, trying to stand up and do something, _anything._

The man laughed, bounding towards him with an excited satisfaction, expressing muffled giggles as he pushed the other masked clown back, snatching his gun from his hand and pointing it between Alberto's eyes, "Ah, ah ,ah... " He knelt down as he had done earlier, except this time Al was restrained, "No _no_ , don _'t_ _worry,_ I wont hurt your little pastime." He shook his head as if the mere suggestion was offensive.  
"Because I _know_ what its like to have someone play with your toys," He nodded like he understood what Alberto was going through, "-tru _st_ me, I _know_. And especially with your beautiful, fragile, prized porcelain doll. But I don't wanna play with her," He shrugged innocently, biting his bottom lip as though he was thinking hard, "no, no.." He edged in closer, tilting the gun away casually as he watched Al's frustrated expression.  
Then he shoved the barrel against his neck, "... _-I wanna break her_."

The silencer on the gun emitted a soft zip sound as a bullet lodged itself into Alberto Falcone's throat. An odd place to shoot someone, but effective. It hurt, but he couldn't scream, he couldn't breath. He would choke on his own blood, the only sound being the soft splutter of his frantic tongue.

The man threw the gun onto the floor, looking at the other two, "Take whatever you want...-" He stepped over, putting a hand out as Eleanor was dropped onto him and the silver necklace around her neck was ripped off. Eleanor's body pressed against him, her chest pushed up against his. He looked down at her with a perplexed amusement, not sure how to handle her until he looked over at Alberto.

Al was still there, barely, but still holding on. Still staring at the man holding Eleanor Tyrell in his arms, who was now holding her hand, controlling it like a puppet. Her hand waved at him, the man mouthing something as the lights left his eyes, knowing now that this was the end.

" _Bye, bye_."

* * *

 **Eleanor**

Everything went black.

 _She was annoyed with Alberto. No, she was angry with him. But she couldn't remember why. Why?_

The ground was moving beneath her. She was so drowsy.

 _She thought he loved her. But now he didn't. But now he didn't. Why?_

Her head hurt. She was so cold, she wanted to get into her soft warm bed-

 _Her bed. In her home. Someone was in her home. In her home? Who? Al? No, she was angry at him remember? Remember? Remember? Why don't you remember-?_

Eleanor's eyes shot open, her legs moving suddenly underneath her. Her hands rose, slapping against the interior walls of the van. Her body jerked upwards to a sitting position, frantically taking in her surroundings. She had been lying down on her back on the cold hard floor of the moving van, it had white internal walls, an empty canister in one corner and several used strips of old bubble-wrap floating around.

It was otherwise empty. Now clowns with guns, no scarred man with big bad knives... Which meant they were the ones driving this thing. Eleanor pulled herself to her feet, stumbling as the floor seemed to shift beneath her, rendering her off balance as she stepped towards the back. She raised a foot and dug her heel into the door, willing for it to open. But the force of the kick just hurt her foot instead, her boots no match for the vehicles defenses. She pushed her full body weight onto it, slamming two or three times against the back door in the dim light but it barely budged.

"C'mon!" She spoke into the silence, panic lacing her shrill cry as her head turned towards the front. A small square grid sat in the middle of the wall, a metal sheet of tiny square holes. It was probably for ventilation, but she could bet they would hear her through it.

Eleanor staggered as she made her way towards it, nearly losing her footing as she threw her cheek against the cool surface of the grid, "Let _me_ out!" She sounded so feeble and meek, the helpless victim, " _Now_!" She added, hoping to make herself sound a bit more confident.

Nothing.

"Let me _go_!"

It was ridiculous. She could hardly expect them to stop the van and graciously grant her wish.  
She heard someone speak, it was a low mumble to her but she heard it.

" _Where_ are you taking me!?"

Her fist met the grid in frustration, indenting a square pattern into her skin. Another low mumble, what sounded like a laugh this time. Eleanor scowled, her inhales sharp, " _If_ -" Her voice was strong this time, "-you do not tell me what the hell is going on-... and not by dragging me to some secret location or shoving me in the back of some van-"  
She swallowed, catching her breath, "-I will not help you _whatsoever,_ in whatever you want done... If you don't let me know whats going on- in a civilized manner," She added hastily, "I will not give you _anything_. So good luck finding a blackhat better than me. And if whatever you're planning is big-.. then lets face it-" She inhaled, edging closer to the grid, lowering her voice slightly but not altering the tone, "- you need me."

There was no muffled laugh this time, not even a sound from the front of the van. Maybe it had worked, maybe it hadn't. It was a pretty convincing speech from what she thought. Eleanor let her hand slide off the grid as she waiting in the silence for a reply, or even a sign that they had heard and contemplated her offer of sorts.

She had almost given up, nearly about to sink down onto the floor when the van began to slow down, grinding to a halt and turning right to what she hoped was a parking space. A sound from the front and then a door opening and closing. A shuffle and then the door opening once more to another murmur.  
The door closed again.  
Footsteps outside the van, moving from the front to the back.

The back door of the van opened, shining light into the vehicle .

"Try anything-" A clear voice finally spoke from the grid, unfamiliar, "-he says he'll cut off your tongue."


End file.
